One feels
as if his senses were playing him false, and that he is back
again in some particular town, the memory of which is painfully
familiar, where from daylight till dawn and dawn till daylight
such timely topics are discussed from that loafer's haven, the
village store.
Goat Island is said to be covered with verdant forest, but it is
no longer verdant, for it shows the ravages of those who wish
some one to know they had visited Niagara. Important news, this,
that requires those beautiful registers of God's own building
for its recording. The large majestic beech trees, among whose
verdant branches the orioles and tanagers poured forth their
rich notes once whispered from all their wealth of emerald
leaves invitations to the weary to come and enjoy the sanctuary
of healing coolness and restful shade and shelter. Many were the
travelers who left the hot, dusty highways for the cool, dewy
carpet of velvety moss in the woodland solitude, where numerous
wild flowers and sweet-scented ferns filled all the air with
fragrance. The noble beech trees throw up their naked branches
as if pointing ghostly fingers of accusation to the carelessness
and indifference of those vandal days. Now these decaying
emblems stand scarred and desolate, "Monuments to fond hearts
and foolish heads."
"Here, as in by-gone days, no song of bird or wealth of plumage
gladdens its forlorn branches; no lovely flowers or shade-loving
moss and fern make patches of emerald and gold;" no weary
pedestrian turns aside from the hot, dusty path where the heated
air flows in tremendous rays unless to decipher some name on the
bark where Nature in pity is covering the scars with the lovely
woodbine.
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